


Not A Ghost

by LockWhoSuper



Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Breaking and Entering, Explicit Language, Fainting, First Dates, Ghosts, Humor, M/M, Misunderstandings, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-25
Updated: 2015-04-25
Packaged: 2018-03-25 15:33:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3815674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LockWhoSuper/pseuds/LockWhoSuper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Two strangers exploring the same haunted house that thinks the other is a ghost.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not A Ghost

**Author's Note:**

> Steve decides randomly that exploring a supposedly haunted house is a great way to spend an evening breaks in through the front door and Bucky who got dared by Natasha because he thought he could drink her under the table to spend the night in the local 'haunted' house climbs in through a window. 
> 
> 'Two strangers exploring the same haunted house that thinks the other is a ghost.'
> 
> Disclaimer- I do not own any of these characters nor am I making any money from this.

"This is the dumbest idea you've ever had Steve." Sam nodded in agreement.

"Peggy's right dude. I wouldn't even do this." Steve rolled his eyes and pushed open the back door of Peggy's car.

"That's because you suck Sam." Peggy chewed her lip to hide her smile.

"Oh, so that's how it is?"

Steve grinned and shut his door behind him. "That's how it is."

"If you call me in the middle of the night begging me to pick you up because you're scared, I'm leaving your skinny ass here."

Peggy shook her head. "Boys, play nicely." When Steve and Sam both turned to look at her and opened their mouths to argue she gave them her famous 'are you seriously going to try me' look.

"You know it's only an urban legend right?" Steve said a moment later after him and Sam gave a look of their own to each other. Sam just shrugged and muttered that Steve was going to be dead by morning.

"Yes we know it's just an urban legend Steve, but I still don't think you should be breaking and entering into a poor dead saps home just to prove it." Peggy looked worriedly at the house in front of her. Sam and Steve shared another look and Sam grinned.

"Steve's done worse things then breaking and entering."

"Sam's right Pegs, I can take care of myself." Steve stood up a little straighter and squared his tiny shoulders.

"Then why do I always have to save your backside?" Peggy raised an eyebrow and Steve blushed. Sam cackled while Steve punched him lightly in the shoulder through his open window.

"Just hand me the fucking bolt cutters okay? Thank you Sam. I'll call you guys in the morning alright?" Without looking back at his friends, Steve marched up to the front door. It took a few goes but when the Steve finally manged to break the thick lock he let out "ha!" in triumph and opened the creaky door.  
\--

"This is the greatest idea Natasha's ever had!"

"Shut the fuck up Clint," Bucky grumbled and opened the drivers door, exiting his own car and then turned to watch glumly as Natasha slid across and adjusted everything to her specifications. "Do you always have to do that?" Natasha just flipped him the bird and flicked a curly red strand of hair over her shoulder.

"I can't believe that you actually thought you could drink Nat under the table. I mean seriously dude, what where you thinking?" Clint's hanging half out of his window, a dopey smile on his face.

"You look like a dog." Bucky says harshly but it doesn't slacken Clint's smile.

"Clint's right James, I'm Russian, what did you expect?" Natasha's smirk makes Bucky glower but he sighs and accepts it with a shrug.

"Yeah yeah." He mumbles and Clint tosses him a flash light.

"You have to stay all night for it to count." Bucky nods and eyes the house with a wary interest. "No chickening out or sleeping on the door step like a hobo." Natasha says.

"I know alright? You've been pestering me all day!" Clint cackles in the passenger seat and Natasha waves past Clint's head yelling "we'll see you in the morning!" before driving back the way they came leaving Bucky to climb through a low broken window around the back of the house.  
\--

Steve doesn't believe in ghosts. There is absolutely no way that there is such a thing. It's just an urban legend. Peggy and her silly stories could go take a hike.

That is what Steve tells himself when an ' _oof!_ ' echos through the dark house. He's just shut the door behind him, it's rusted on its hinges and it made a horrible screeching sound when Steve pushed it back so maybe that was the echoing noise. Steve checks his hearing aid as well, but it seems to be fine.

"Ghosts aren't real." Steve whispers to himself, fingers tightening his grip around his bolt cutters. "Peggy just put the stupid idea in your head. It was a rat, or the wind or something."  
\--

The window frame was rusty and really gross, Bucky didn't want to touch it unless he absolutely had to. He had underestimated how low the window actually was and unless he wanted to cling onto the dank window frame, he was going to have to face plant on the floor.

Bucky chose to face plant.

A strangled ' _oof_ ' escaped his chest when he landed and his thud was muffled by his jacket and the amount of dust that was on the floor. He shot up quickly, patting himself down and flicking unknown substances off his jeans.

It was dark. It was really fucking dark. Bucky sent a silent thank you to Clint and switched on his flash light. The sudden brightness blinded him and the torch light glinted off of his chrome plated prosthetic, throwing beams of light against the rotting walls. Bucky smothered the torch light with the palm of his hand and blinked away the white dots spotted against his eyelids. If there was a ghost this would be the perfect time to catch Bucky unaware.  
\--

Steve had made his way into the hall. At least he thought it was the hall. He had just wanted to find the kitchen but it was so dark he didn't know where he was. The light from his cell phone screen wasn't doing much in the way of helping him gather his bearings. Something was shinning against the walls behind him, Steve couldn't remember if there was a moon out tonight. The lights disappeared suddenly and Steve's heart lurched dangerously in his chest before he exhaled, just head lights from a passing car, nothing to worry about.

On Steve's right was a door knob, he set down his bolt cutters and slipped his cell phone into his pocket. Cobwebs covered it so he smacked at it with the sleeves of his jacket, clearing most of them away, then smacking at it just a few more times, to be safe. To be even more safe, Steve tried the door nob with his sleeve covering his hand. It was clear that the door had not been tried for some time and it was typically stuck on it's hinges. Grime, a build up of dirt and cobwebs was making the door hold firmly in place, even when Steve twisted the door nob and pushed with all his might.

Steve exhaled, wondering if he should just move on or try open the door with force. It doesn't hurt to try, right? Stepping back a few paces, he bounced in his shoes and psyched himself up, one correctly aimed strong kick to the door should open it.

Easier said then done.

The first time Steve tried to kick the door he missed and kicked the wall instead. A chunk of dry wall sunk in and the loud bag it made started Steve. His shoe and the bottoms of his jeans came away from the wall chalk white and when he tried kicking the door again the dust from the dry wall puffed up and created a small dusty cloud. Steve covered his mouth with his sleeve, having an asthma attack right now would _not_ be good.

The door sprung away from its frame on Steve's third kick, sending Steve sprawling to the floor from its surprising force and the door swung back and slammed into the wall, this time the loud bang left Steve on the floor with his hands protectively covering his head for five minutes.  
\--

Bucky was only joking when he said that this was the perfect time for a ghost to catch him unaware. A faint 'thwap thwap thwap' sound ringed loudly in his ears, Bucky didn't know what a ghost sounded like but _maybe_ it was floating through the walls to come and kill him?

The loud bangs and then that fucking crash was _definitely_ the ghost coming towards him.

_Shit, shit, shit_! Bucky dived into a open room beside him and plastered himself against the wall. Breathing heavily Bucky waited with Clint's flash light poised over his head, ready to attack the thing that was coming to attack him. A few solid minutes passed and Bucky's heart rate had lowered considerably.

"Hello?" Bucky whispered. He waited 12 heartbeats, counting them when they pulsed in his throat. Getting to his feat, he swung the torch light around the room he was in and found nothing threatening. He heard nothing back in reply to his 'hello' and Bucky laughed at himself for freaking out over the _wind_ or something.

The room he's in appears to once have been a bedroom, going by the rusted through bed frame missing a mattress in the middle of the dirty floor. Bucky swings the torch light around the room in a slow circle, looking for any signs of ghostly inhabitants or something cool to rub in his best friends faces in the morning. Nothing but rats droppings was scattered about the rest of the room, _that_ wasn't worth bringing home with him do he exited the room and shone the flash light down the hall.  
\--

After the dust had settled and Steve's ears had stopped ringing from the loud crash the door made, he was able to pull himself together and scramble back to his feet. A grin plastered Steve's face, he'd made it to the kitchen. The kitchen was the perfect place to wait out the night. The hard dinning chairs would keep Steve alert and awake and he could watch the door from where he sat, there was also a window above the sink he could crawl out of things turned towards life and death.

Steve shuffled towards the table in the center of the room, his cell phone light offered no significant brightness. That's why the sudden brightness from behind him made him jump, a strangled cry escaped his throat, whirling around he found a beam of light coming up behind him. Steve stumbled backwards until his back hit the table. Brittle, aged wooden legs slid back with Steve's weight and a crack bit out into the empty room making Steve lurch forwards toward the incoming light.

It was too late to scramble out the window, whatever was coming would be able to grab Steve's legs and pull him back inside, he'd seen enough horror films to know what would happen to him after. Taking a calculated risk, Steve reached out and his finger tips grappled the pantry doors. Flinging them open, too far gone to care about what might be inside to surprise him, he drew them closed behind him with a puff of dust and silenced his breathing by hiding his mouth in the crook of his elbow. His heart was beating too fast and hard against his ribs, blood rushing in his ears, fishing in his jacket pocket Steve desperately grasped at his inhaler, shaking it and taking a few deep breaths with the aid of his inhaler.  
\--

There was a noise from what Bucky assumed to be the kitchen, a hurried set of foot falls and a frightening crack. Bucky frantically found his phone and set it on video, he'd catch one, maybe two, seconds of ghostly footage for Natasha and then get the hell out of dodge.

Other than a few noises and multiple rat droppings the 'haunted' house is pretty boring, Natasha was going to feel pretty stupid when she found out that this place didn't even have a _basement_. Bucky comes to a halt just shy of the open doorway, where he's sure the noises came from and preys he catches something exciting as he tentatively sticks his phone around the corner. Pulling his hand and phone back towards his body quickly, he plays what he recorded back. Bucky's heart sinks when all he captured was a dark room. Venturing out from the hallway, Bucky steps out and kicks something heavy and metal. He shines his torch at it immediately, fearing the worst. Bolt cutters. A rusty pair, from someone's garden, left years ago from some punk kids looking for a place to get high. Raising his torch back to the door, he moved into the kitchen and shines his torch around. Like the bedroom nothing suggests any hint of ghostly inhabitants.  
\--

In the safety of the pantry where Steve had made his evasive maneuver, Steve was having a heart attack. A ghost was in the room with him. Peggy was right. Steve was going to die or become possessed by an angry spirit knowing that Peggy was right. If he made it out of the pantry alive he swore to never doubt her again.

The light that had come up behind him was the ghost haunting this house. Dark hair, dirty clothes, a bright pale light washing his features, making him hard to look at. But Steve couldn't look away. He stared wide eyed and terrified at the ghost in front of him through the slits in the wood of the pantry door. He felt himself growing faint, his knees buckled and the need for oxygen became too much. Steve was going to faint at the sight of a ghost.  
\--

A shuffling noise came from the pantry, Bucky's heart jolted and his palms started to sweat. Inching himself forwards Bucky held his phone up and started recording again. Shifting Clint's torch to hold in his mouth, Bucky used the newly freed hand to reach towards the pantry door, getting ready to open it an unleash what was inside.

He didn't need to open it himself. The doors slipped open just as his hand was brushing the handle.

Bucky jumped back in surprise and slammed into something behind him. The kitchen table and it's few chairs knocked over and broke with contact the the floor, the rotten wood splintering against Bucky's boots.

Someone, some _thing_ tumbled out of the pantry. Its features were washed out by Bucky's flashlight, sickly pale tint of the skin, hazy blue eyes and pale blonde hair, clothes tatty and chalk white.

A ghost.

Bucky screams. A strangled cry escaping his throat, muffled by the torch in his mouth before it fell and clattered against the floor and caught on his forgotten cellphone recording his last living moments before the ghost killed him. The ghost swayed where it stood, stumbling on its shaking legs, taking a rough step towards Bucky and promptly collapsing in a heap at Bucky's feet.

\--

Steve didn't know how long he was unconscious for. The last thing he remembered was the _fucking_ ghost, _oh God, Peggy was right_ and a high pitched scream before he acquainted himself with the filthy floor of the kitchen.

Something was pressing against his shoulder, a constant pressure that felt like fingers. Oh right, the ghost. Steve snapped his head up, scrambling to find purchase on the floor to wrench himself up into a defensive position. If he was going to die, he'd do it fighting. /p>

"Woah, dude, take it easy okay?" A Brooklyn drawl pierced through Steve's thoughts and he would never admit it to anyone but he screamed. The ghost was _talking_ to him.

"I'm not a ghost!" Said the ghost and Steve realized he must of said it out loud. Steve shook away the remainder of the dizziness and rubbed at his eyes, there would probably be a bruise on his face in the morning, courtesy of his epic face planting fuck up.  
\--

Not a ghost. Bucky's so fucking _relieved_. Just a man. 95 pounds soaking wet, bright blue eyes, Jesus Christ. He's fucking _gorgeous_. What is a gorgeous man doing in a place like this?

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"I uh..." The man shuffled his feet where he stood, a sheepish expression on his face. "I was just curious. Haunted house ya' know?"

Bucky blinked, taking a moment to process. "You're here on your own free will? Shit dude, you scared the shit out of me, you're just some punk ass kid! What the hell were you doing in the pantry?"  
\--

Steve stared blatantly at the man. A human man, a very unfairly attractive man with a sharp jaw and long brown hair tied loosly into a bun, not a ghost. "You're calling me a punk? You're such a jerk! I thought you were a ghost coming to kill me!"  
\--

A full body laugh racket Bucky's body, all the pent up tension washed out of his system and his posture sagged, he was relaxed and comfortable in knowing that he wasn't going to die and there was no such thing as ghosts.

"What are you laughing at you jerk?" Bucky just laughed harder, doubling over with his hands on his knees.

"I thought _you_ were a ghost!" He wheezed out between gasps of air.  
\--

Laughter bubbled up from Steve's chest before he could stop it. Throwing his head back he giggled, giggled like he hadn't just fainted.

"Steve, Steve Rogers, last time I checked I wasn't a ghost." Steve stuck out a tiny hand between giggles. The man grasped it firmly with his prosthetic and smiled so warmly Steve was lost for a few seconds.

"Bucky Barnes, also not a ghost." Bucky dropped his hand, laughing once again at the absurdity of the whole situation. "Fuck I'm glad you're not a ghost man."

"Same here," Steve whipped his shaking hands against his dusty jeans. "You never did tell me why you're here."

Bucky shook his head, stray hairs getting caught in his mouth, he spat them out with a flick of his tongue that had Steve hypnotized. "I got dared."

Steve's eyes widened, "dared? Wow, who ever thought of this dare must be an evil genius."

"Don't let her hear you say that, she doesn't let anything go. Ever." Steve quirked a smile that really shouldn't have been _that_ attractive.

"Girlfriend?" Steve asked shyly.

Bucky shook his head, "nah, best friend actually."

Steve nodded, a swell of hope spread a grin across his face and before he knew what was happening he looked up at Bucky through his eyelashes. "That's good."

Bucky swallowed, "yeah, this evening hasn't exactly gone the way I expected it to but things are fantastic now." Color rose in Steve's checks and he looked down at his shoes, his blush was so endearing and adorable Bucky grinned.

"How did you even get in here? I mean, I went through the front door and I didn't see you." Steve's brows were furrowed, lips pursed, looking back at Bucky with questioning eyes.

_Oh hell_ , Bucky knew he was fucked.

"Climbed through a window," he shrugged and Steve laughed, slapping his knees.

"Through a window, God. Did you find anything?" Bucky shook his head.

"Just a bunch of dust and you."

"That means the house is clear right?" Steve picked up Bucky's dropped flashlight and looked around, "I haven't been to the living room yet but you must have."

Bucky shook his head, "I haven't been to the living room. Where you just going to sit in here and not check out the rest of the house?" Steve raised his shoulders in a vague shrug. Bucky ran his hands down his face, "oh Jesus. There could of been someone else in the house!"

"But there was Bucky!" Steve pushed a closed fist to Bucky's chest, "you!" Steve chuckled, "I'm not completely stupid okay? We'll just go clear the living room now, together." He flattened out his fist, fingers spreading out over hard muscle and bunching Bucky's shirt. "Hopefully there will be a couch or something to lie down on."

Bucky blushed and Steve removed his hand quickly, "I didn't mean it like _that_ , I just really need to sit down, kinda tired."

"Oh, right. Not that lying down wouldn't be..." Bucky stammered then decided to just stop fucking talking. Scratching the back of his neck, he suppressed another blush.

Steve huffed an awkward laugh, flirting had never been his fortay. Instead of replying he waved a hand instead in the general directon of where the living room must be. Bucky got the hint and he took his flashlight back from Steve, grazing his fingers against Steve's pale wrist in the process, enjoying the warmth he felt under his finger tips. Together they made their way to the living room, a dank musty smell made Steve cough, Bucky just wrinkled his nose and shone the light at the ceiling. 

"Water damage, the couches are probably ruined." Steve sighed and rocked in his shoes, titling so his face could press against Bucky's shoulder. Bucky stiffed and Steve looked up at him, face still smooshed against his shoulder.

"Is this okay?" He whispered, too tired to raise his voice.

Bucky nodded and Steve smiled, a goofy half crooked grin that was so bashful Bucky's heart clenched in his chest. "There's a sofa in the corner, I'm sure it'll be fine." Steve grunted and pushed himself gracelessly away from Bucky's shoulder. With the last remaining ouch of strength Steve had, he shuffled over to the sofa illuminated by Bucky's flashlight. 

"Jesus Steve, you're dead on your feet." 

Steve grunted again, "I'm okay, had an asthma attack when I was hiding in the pantry an' fainting takes a lot out of you."

Bucky chewed his lip, feeling guilty for scaring Steve like that. "This is just ridiculous, here." He held out the flashlight and Steve griped in weakly. Bucky then bent his knees and swooped Steve up in his arms bridal style in one quick scoop. Steve opened his mouth to protest but Bucky shot him a glare. "It's the lest I can do." Nodding, Steve rolled his head back and let Bucky sit on the sofa first, holding Steve against his chest as Steve dozed off.  
\--

Snapping his eyes open, Bucky sat up with a jolt, the warm weight on his lap shifted and groaned. Light streamed through gritty windows, making Steve turn his head away and press his face into Bucky's thigh. _Steve_. The events of last night came rushing back to Bucky and he fished for his cell phone. 6am. It was morning, they had made it through the night. 

"Hey Steve," Bucky ran his flesh hand through Steve's blonde hair, "s'time to wake up." Steve sniffled and cracked his eyes open, they were glassy and squinting against the morning light. 

"Bucky?" He mumbled, voice rough from sleeping. 

"Yeah, it's me." Steve hummed and pressed his face back to his thigh. Bucky chuckled, "it's 6am and I'm starving. I was thinking we could grab some breakfast from down the road."

This grabbed Steve's attention, "food?" He asked, rolling to his side and swinging his legs off the sofa. 

"Pancakes." Said Bucky around a smile. 

Steve hummed appreciatively. "I could eat."

"My shout then." Bucky rose to his feet, dragging Steve with him. They looked at each other, alive and not ghosts. Steve laughed once and Bucky smiled so brightly it envied the sun. 

"Second date?" Steve asked hopefully, reaching out to take Bucky's hand in his own. 

Bucky laced their fingers together, "second date."

**Author's Note:**

> Authors note- I don't really like this one, it's stupid but it has been incomplete for like a month so I thought I better just finish it and post it you know? I don't think I'll ever be happy with it but now it's out of the way so, thanks for taking the time to read :)


End file.
